Indominus
by Swevens
Summary: Kira Dearing, sister of and assistant to Operations Manager Claire Dearing, finds her world ripped apart when the newest exhibit at the Jurassic World Theme Park is loosed on the island, threatening everything - and everyone - she holds dear.
1. Late

One

 _I dart quickly between two buildings and into an alley, faced almost immediately with a wall blocking the way. Hesitating only a second I jump up onto a nearby dumpster and vault over the wall._

 _"_ _Hurry, I'm right behind you!" Barry shouts. I can see him pulling up beside me as we sprint down another street. Suddenly there's a loud crashing sound, and the world around us rumbles._

 _"_ _I'm going, I'm going," I say, focussing on the safe point not far ahead._

 _"_ _C'mon, guys, it's gaining!" This useless sentiment comes from Lowery, our other companion. Before I can reply, he shouts and swears, and his body goes flying forward, past us to land on the concrete just ahead. Barry jumps, reflexing like lightning, and continues on, but I'm not so lucky. Jumping too late, I catch a foot on Lowery, and tumble across the pavement._

 _I bite back a scream as I'm picked up and shaken, long jagged teeth clearly visible around me. Another monster shoots past us and pounces on Barry's back, taking him down too. The world fades to black._

"Aw, damn, girl," Barry says, both of us tossing our controllers down simultaneously. "I thought you said you'd been practicing!"

"Well, when I have time!" I retort, standing to stretch my limbs. We'd been playing for almost an hour, I realize, glancing up at the clock. "I did a hell of a lot better than last time!"

Lowery, owner of said clock and host of this morning's matchup, grabs the remote to turn off the television. "True. That would almost be impressive, if you didn't suck almost as hard this time around."

I reach over and hit Lowery's arm, jokingly, of course, but hard enough to send my message. It's only then that I notice Lowery's shirt of choice.

"Cool as that is," I start, nodding at the article in question, "don't you think it's maybe a little in bad taste, I mean to wear here? I doubt any of the higher-ups would appreciate the throwback, honestly."

"Aw, c'mon," he protests, shaking his head. "It's practically an artifact – and for what I paid, used, for this baby, it's gotta earn its keep. On eBay, these things are going for, like-"

Barry glances over at our friend's vintage Jurassic Park t-shirt, and interrupts. "Maybe not the best idea, bud," he agrees. "You know if Kira's bothering to critique someone's style, let alone notice it, you should probably listen. If something's bad enough for her to get involved, the lizards out there can all see it, too."

"Hey," I say, pretending to be offended, though we all three know it's true. "Delta has a very astute fashion sense, I'll have you know." Speaking the name sends a little pang through my chest, and I make a mental note to stop in for a visit later in the day. It's been too long again.

Lowery, meanwhile, finally gives Barry a little nod. "When you put it like that…"

Barry chooses that moment to practically leap to his feet.

"Shit! You guys!" he exclaims, the wide whites of his eyes standing out glaringly against his dark skin. "It's after eight!"

Lowery swears in reply and yanks a rumpled, blue button-down shirt from the back of his couch. "I can't be late – it'll be the third time this month!" We all know what the punishment is for a third tardy slip within thirty days – let's just say it's a pretty crappy deal.

As if on cue, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket; I wave to Barry, who's already at the door as I answer.

She doesn't even give me time to greet her before launching at me. "Kira! Where _are_ you? Production meeting starts in five!"

"Good morning to you, too, Claire," I reply glibly, used to the stony tone she's utilising. "I'm just entering headquarters – be there in two."

I hang up before she has time to harass me further, and follow Barry out the door. Lowery, too, follows our exit, though Barry and I, picking up the pace, quickly outrun him. Lowery's never been known for either intense dedication, nor intense physical labour. Outside the apartment blockade, Barry jags left, heading for the car parkade, while I take off to the right – my destination is much closer.

Ten minutes later, I make it to the third floor of Jurassic Headquarters, where Claire is waiting just outside Conference Room B. Claire, a striking redhead, stands about 5'8" naturally, an inch or so taller than I, but in her usual sky-high heels, she towers over me at nearly six feet. Her blue eyes are almost snapping with annoyance, and the severe cut of her hairline only adds to the persona that intimidates almost everyone else. Me, I've known her far too long for that, having found my immunity somewhere around the age of eight.

"Just outside the building," she scoffs. "Some days, Kira, I wish you were just a little bit more responsible-"

"Speaking of responsible, why are you waiting out here when the meeting's already going?" I interrupt, still unfazed at her tone. "What does that say about you? You're the older one."

"Henry's running late, too, as it happens," she replies, sticking her already-upturned nose into the air. Conscious of the same shaping of mine, I make a mental note never to stick my own that high. Lowering her gaze to study me, her eyes darken in disapproval almost instantly. "What sort of meeting apparel is _that?_ "

I glance down too, though having dressed myself very recently, I shouldn't have to. Maybe the look in her eyes is starting to get to me. Just a little. My dark green cotton tank, paired with brown shorts and well-worn hiking boots look very good, I think, though admittedly casual next to Claire's white belted skirt-dress thing. Not to mention the high heels.

"What?" I reply, apparently not fazed enough to drop the flippant tone I tend to take when Claire goes on a rampage about something. "It's clean."

"You look like you're going to the beach…or something," she sniffs. "Or a hike or whatever you like to occupy yourself with – bug hunting, maybe, I don't know – but even you've got to realize that there is no way that outfit is meeting appropriate!"

"Yeah, but the meeting's like, what, an hour?" I point out. "And then what? Zach and Grey will be here and we'll be just hanging around like tourists for probably ten or twelve hours – which, if I did the math right, means ten to twelve times as long as the meeting." I glance again at her heels. "Don't your feet get sore in those, anyway?"

Claire sighs in frustration and waves a hand at the nearby coatrack. "Good God, Kira. Put on a lab coat, then, before you sit. Your legs will be under the table, anyway. Just stay seated when I get up to speak. You're going to look like you're not wearing pants if you traipse around the room in that coat."

"If I'd have realized that's how I can get out of these speeches," I tell her, obediently slipping on a white coat, "I'd have started dressing like this for meetings years ago."

Refusing to reply to the bait, Claire simply sweeps past me and into the boardroom, heels clicking daintily as she goes. Smiling, I roll my eyes at her back and follow.


	2. Reunion

Two

A very long hour and a half later, I'm more than ready to shed the long, heavy lab coat on my way out the door.

"Well," I say to Claire, as we make our way out into the merciless Central American sun, "we can cross _that_ torture off the schedule for another month."

"Meetings like that are vital to team communications," she says simply, sounding as if she's reading the words off of a pamphlet. "In order for a machine to function at maximum efficiency, each cog must have the information it needs to perform its duties and keep the system running smoothly."

I snort at that. "Okay, cog. If you're done with _that_ mind-numbing speech, it's after ten. Zach and Grey are probably on the island by now. We should hunt 'em down, no?"

"I sent Zara to meet the boat; she's supposed to stay with them. They'll be fine. They're probably already caught up in the attractions, anyway," she replies briskly. Zara Young, a pretty British intern assistant – who was probably already more capable than me, to be honest, had been given the more fun task this morning of meeting my nephews off the plane on the mainland.

"I thought that's what we were supposed to do," I say, stopping in my tracks. "I thought that was how we were going to get out of that stupid dinner tonight."

"I never said we weren't attending the dinner," she responds, looking back at me quizzically. "What made you think that?"

"Uh, maybe Karen _sending her kids to spend time with us_?" The oldest sister, Karen, the only married Dearing, was also the only one with kids. I'd been looking forward to seeing the boys, mostly because I was much closer in age to Zach than either of my sisters. I'd been something of an afterthought.

"That's why we're taking tomorrow off to show them around," she says, picking up the pace again. The click, click of her heels grinding against the concrete walkway. "Although in the afternoon, we might have to oversee the review of Paddock Four's infrastructure."

I throw my head back in frustration, but before I can argue, a pudgy, balding man I know only as Mr. Allen waves us down from just outside the heavy doors of the main tourist building. "Misses Dearing," he calls out, "we're having a bit of a problem with one of our projectors – would you mind having a look?"

Claire pulls out her phone and pushes the home button, checking the time. "As long as it's quick," she allows, leading me up and into the building.

After a solid twenty minutes of tinkering, neither one of us really knowing what we're doing, Claire gives me the go-ahead to call on one of the tech guys up in the control room, who promises to skip on down, pronto, freeing us from the problem.

"We really need to look at hiring a couple more staff," I say, as we make our way down the winding stairs from the tech room. "Even just a couple of floaters for situations like this."

"That sounds wonderful," Claire says, as her phone starts ringing. "But tell me, where do you see room in the budget for it? Hello? Yes. No, that won't be necessary. Yes. What did Dr. Wu say?"

Bored, I tune her out and scan the tourist crowd milling below. A cute dark-haired girl, about four, is stomping in circles around her parents, arms pulled in and hands curled like a baby t-rex. I'm smiling at the sight even as a frantically waving hand a couple feet further into the crowd catches my attention. I almost don't recognize the blue eyes trained on mine.

"Look, Zach," Grey is shouting, pointing and waving. "It's Aunt Kira – and is that Aunt Claire?"

"I've got to go," Claire says into her phone, noticing the boys. "My nephews are here." She slides the phone into her pocket, but I'm already several steps ahead of her, eyes trained on the boys in the crowd.

"Aunt Kira!" Grey shouts, no hesitation as he leans in for a hug. I smile at Zach over his shoulder, noticing how close the younger brother is getting to my height.

"Hey, Grey," I say as he pulls back. I'm glad to see he's still got a cheerful innocence to his face. He wastes no time bounding past me to embrace Claire. Much as I'd like to see her reaction to so much physical contact, I focus instead on Zach, who is still hanging back from the reunion. "Hey, Zach."

"Kira," he replies, standing his ground. After a beat, though, his upper lip twitches. "You haven't actually started _shrinking_ , have you?" A couple steps forward and we're toe-to-toe, my sixteen-year-old nephew towering head-and-shoulders above me.

"Watch it," I say, equally stone-faced. "I still know how to throw a wicked one when I need to."

Reflexively he reaches up to touch his cheek, then sweeps his hand through his hair to cover the motion. To be fair, we were seven and eleven, and Zach had told me that even though I was four years older, I was a girl and thus incapable of winning a fistfight. Fight fair or not, he'd never challenged me like that again. I have to fight back a smirk at the memory.

Zach, however, does smirk and, catching me off-guard, he brings his hand back up and ruffles my hair the way he used to do to my parents' shih tzu, Moby. I'm contemplating round two of our boxing days when Grey pipes up, leaving me no choice but to shoot Zach a dirty look as I try smooth my hair down to its own natural level of crazy.

"I've got it all planned out," he's saying, bouncing up and down like a – well, he sort of reminds me of Moby, actually. "First, we'll go watch the feeding at the Mosasaurus enclosure, then we can take a tour of the-"

"Oh," Claire interrupts. "That's right – I've got these park passes for you both. These'll get you to the front of the line on all the rides-"

Grey takes a turn interrupting her. "Wait, you're not coming with us?"

The slight curve of a smile Zach had been wearing tightened back up as he looked to Claire.

"I'm sorry, I've got things I need to do today. Zara here will make sure you see whatever you want – oh," Claire says, "but tomorrow, we can take a special tour of the control room – that would be fun, right?"

Neither boy replies this time, so Claire simply brushes off the silence and continues on. "I'll see you tonight, alright? Around six?"

Zara speaks up. "Oh, you've got that-" That stupid dinner. Again, Zara proves just how much better she is at my job, since I'd already completely forgotten about dinner; or just repressed it out of sheer spite, who knows.

"Right," Claire nods. "Make that eight. Do you two go to bed at-? Or do you have separate times you-?"

Zach's cold stare seems to be unnerving her, and while mostly I'm amused to see someone work the same look on Claire as she uses on - well, everyone – a small part of me feels sorry for her, so far out of her element.

Thankfully, Claire's phone goes off again and she walks off to take the call. More boring business stuff I immediately tune out. The boys both turn to me.

"Can you come with us, Aunt Kira?" Grey asks, turning his pretty blue eyes on me.

"I would if I could," I tell him. "For now, I'm stuck doing whatever Aunt Claire needs. But…if I can sneak away early, I'll come find you guys, okay?"

"Okay," Grey agrees, though this, too, is a let-down for him.

"Well," I say, catching Claire's eye. She's still on the phone, but waving for me to follow. "If you head over now, you can probably catch the Mosasaurus show at the aquarium. I'll text you, Zach, if I finish up early."

He doesn't say anything – I'm getting the feeling Zach's going through a phase of some sort that restricts his vocal abilities – but he does nod at me as Grey drags him off through the crowd. Zara immediately matches the boys' pace and disappears after them.

"Some people have all the luck," I say to myself, staring after her in envy.


	3. Indominus

Three

"Kira. Kira!"

I come to with a jolt, reflexively wiping my mouth in case of drool. Luckily, there's no sign today.

"The meeting ended five minutes ago," Claire is saying. I'm sitting in a comfy black leather swivel chair in Conference Room D. My sister stands beside me, hands on her slender hips. "Do you have any clue as to what we've been discussing?"

"Of course I do," I grumble at her, though I don't offer any recap, since of course I don't actually know.

Claire just sighs. "I bet if you were still on fieldwork you wouldn't spend all your time napping. Say the word and I'll arrange for you to go back."

"Not to that position," I tell her, shaking the thought from my head as I stand. "I'd rather try pretend like I'm listening to you all day."

"You could try listening," Claire retorts, "instead of trying to pretend you're listening. Well. Since you've been paying so much attention to what's been going on, perhaps you can tell me where we're headed now?"

"To tour with the boys?" I guess hopefully. It's early afternoon now, and I'm itching to get back outside. I'm actually starting to feel cold in my outfit, trapped in the air conditioned building like I've been. I'm a firm believer that a person should never have goosebumps in the tropics. Yet here I am, and here they are dotting my limbs.

"No, better," she says. "We're going to go check on the new exhibit. We're taking a helicopter out, so we'd best hurry down to the helipad. Don't want to keep him waiting."

I want to ask who this 'him' is, but Claire's clicking off down the hall in her heels already, leaving me no choice but to follow, something I've been doing a lot lately.

Thankfully, I don't have to wait long for my answer; 'he' is already waiting outside for us, 'he' being the one and only Mr. Simon Masrani, CEO of Masrani Corp and owner of this entire island and Jurassic World upon it. In awe, I find my shoulders dropping into a bow and have to catch myself before I look like a dork in front of my boss's boss's boss.

"Claire," he greets her warmly, "let's get on our way, shall we? Who's this, a new assistant? I am Simon Masrani, if you didn't already know," he says, extending a hand to me. Awed as I am, his warm demeanor puts me at ease.

"Yes, I did," I say, taking his hand. "Kira Dearing, new assistant, at your service."

He gives a little laugh and claps his hands. "And I am at yours. Dearing, hm? Any relation?"

"Sister," I tell him, "though we'll never admit it."

Claire glances around as Mr. Masrani laughs again, pausing as we near the helicopter. "Who's flying it?" she asks, scanning the empty lot.

"I am," he replies, stepping confidently forward.

Mr. Masrani climbs into the drivers' seat as Claire and I take seats in the back. Another man, middle-aged and of considerable girth, is settled already in the passenger side up front.

"I didn't know you could fly," Claire says, strapping herself in carefully. She gives my belt a yank, too, when I haphazardly clip it in.

"Not for two more flights," the passenger up front pipes up. A flying instructor then, I surmise.

Unconcerned about that detail, he grabs the controls and steers the helicopter; the whole thing shuddering and dipping as he slowly guides it into the air. Claire looks as if she's thinking she just climbed into her coffin, and I have to bite back a laugh.

"So, Claire," he says after a moment, once the copter is up a fair distance. "How is the park?"

"Considering all the growth and reparations, we're staying on budget remarkably-"

"But how is the _park_?" Mr. Masrani reiterates, glancing back at her. "Are the guests having fun, are the dinosaurs happy?"

"Guest satisfaction remains level, around the low nineties," Claire says, as always most comfortable when dealing with structured facts and proven numbers. "As for the animals, there's no real way to measure their _emotional_ status."

"Of course there is," Mr. Masrani tells her, steering the helicopter jerkily over a particularly high treetop. "You can tell by their eyes." He looks back at her meaningfully, and though I doubt Claire really understands the sentiment, with that one sentence, Mr. Masrani gains my approval.

It doesn't seem like long before we're settling rather roughly back on the ground, and while Claire looks rather relieved to be out of the aircraft, it's the instructor who dashes for the brush along the edge of the landing pad.

"He's just over-dramatic," Mr. Masrani tells us, waving it off. We follow him up into the building.

About midway or so up inside the wall, we're led to a long narrow room, one entire length of wall comprised of several floor-to-ceiling glass panes looking out into the enclosure. We watch in silence for several moments, until the unmistakeable rumble of movement travels up through the wall. Within a moment, the dinosaur in question is visible through the edge of the treeline.

Involuntarily, I feel myself gasp.

As tall as the trees themselves, the creature, very much looking like the T-Rexs' big bad cousin in the mafia, stares out from its coverage, eyes seeming to search us out. Though it's much warmer here than in Conference Room D, I feel my skin prickling anyway.

"The Indominus Rex," Claire introduces. "When fully grown, she is expected to reach fifty feet in length, or more. We've already had to build up the enclosure to accommodate her. She's…bigger than expected."

Mr. Masrani doesn't take his eyes off of the dinosaur outside. "Can she see us?"

"She can sense thermal radiation, so yes, in a way," Claire tells him.

"Fascinating. You mentioned that the walls had to be extended?"

"Yes, the measure forty feet now. We've got the best structural engineers in the world working on the addition-"

"Are you acquainted with Owen Grady?" Mr. Masrani asks suddenly. Claire thinks for a second before nodding an affirmative. It doesn't take me half that long to place the name to the devil it belongs to. I feel as if I'm frozen to the spot, even as my temper begins to heat. Owen Grady, the worst thing about this island. And there are plenty of snakes around.

"An ex-marine, head of the raptor project," Mr. Masrani says anyway. I grind my teeth. "I'd like for him to take a look at the enclosure, at the earliest convenience."

Claire nods, not noticing my suddenly rigid posture in the least. "We'll head right over, have him check it over today."

"Good, thank you, Claire," Mr. Masrani says.

 _No, thank_ you, I think, though it is the last thing I mean.


	4. Owen Grady

Four

I let Claire plug the address into the GPS, not in the mood to chat, and we travel the first leg of the drive in what Claire thinks is companionable silence. I can tell because she's humming softly under her breath, something she does when she's actually calmed down a bit.

A call coming through on her phone connects with the car's Bluetooth, and she answers it.

"Hi, Karen, how are you?" she says, though reading the caller ID screen has already told me who's calling.

"Hey, Karen," I add.

"The boys are having lots of fun already," Claire tells her cheerily.

"Claire, I just got off the phone with Zach. He says you're not with them?" I can hear the edge in Karen's tone, though all-business Claire is oblivious.

"Yeah, we're really busy today," she chatters. "They're in good hands, though, my British assistant – _intern_ assistant," she corrects, glancing at me, "is with them, so they're in good ha-"

A muffled sob echoes through the speakers. "Karen?" Claire pauses. "Are you crying?"

"You said you'd be with them," she sobs. I swallow uncomfortably. Karen crying has always set me on edge, more so than Claire's steely bossiness. "It was supposed to be a family week-"

"Okay, okay," Claire says, seeming to grasp our sister's seriousness. I for one can't even think of a joke to crack, I am so unnerved. "We'll be spending the whole day with them tomorrow, so-"

"Yeah, well," Karen interrupts, seeming a little less weepy. "A promise tomorrow is worth less than trying today."

"Oh my God, are you using _Mom's_ lines?" Claire says, distracted by the familiar words.

"I am, aren't I?" Karen pauses for a moment. "They really do work, though…you'll find that out someday when you have kids."

Claire glances funny at me and I furrow my eyebrows back. _Does she think I'm pregnant or something?_ Karen's obviously talking more to Claire right now.

"If," Claire finally says, turning back to the road.

"Not if," Karen argues, "when. You'll see." There's another pause on the other side of the call. "I've got to get going."

"I'll take good care of the boys," Claire promises. "They'll be completely safe."

"And I'll skip this dinner thing tonight and show them the best meal on the island," I add, ignoring the stern look from Claire.

"Thank you," Karen says. "I've got to go now; I'll call again tomorrow."

"Take care," Claire says automatically.

"Bye," I chirp.

Claire glances over at me. "You'll skip this dinner thing tonight?"

"Karen's counting on me," I say nonchalantly. "How could I refuse her?"

"She could've asked you to work a round of dropping duty in the pterodactyl cage instead of going to dinner and you'd have jumped at it," Claire grumbles. I simply shrug in response and turn my thoughts back to Karen, the rest of the ride flying by.

Before I know it – before I'm ready for it – we're pulling up in front of Owen Grady's dinky little trailer by the bank. I just stare for a moment, taking in the tools and parts scattered from one end of the yard to the other, to the sturdy if not aesthetically pleasing built-on wraparound deck, and then to the aesthetically pleasing if not study grassy bank facing out towards the river; anywhere else until I have no choice to pick out the man from the mountains of junk.

He'd been working on a motorbike not far from the bank, though our arrival had caught his attention. I let Claire take the lead, exiting the car only once she'd shut hers behind her. His curious gaze clouds over a little as he recognizes me.

"Mr. Grady," I say, somehow arriving at the spot before Claire, betrayed by my own legs.

"Mr. Grady now, is it?" he says, tone hard. "I'm Owen to you."

He's not trying to make this any easier, I can see.

"Hello, Owen," Claire says, stepping in with a quick glance at me. "Claire Dearing. I don't know that we've actually made each other's acquaintance but I'm-"

"I know who you are," he says shortly, glancing between us. "What I don't know is what you're doing here."

"Mr. Masrani has requested that you evaluate Paddock Eleven-"

"There is no Paddock Eleven," he tells her, narrowing his eyes against the sun, just beginning to creep back down out of the sky.

"Yes, there is, although it's classified," Claire corrects. "Our new exhibit is-"

"New exhibit?" he interrupts, wiping the oil from his hands onto a filthy rag. "What kind of exhibit?"

"Seeing as how we're in Jurassic World," I interrupt, seemingly losing control of my vocal restraint, "I'd say it's pretty safe, even for you, to assume it's a dinosaur exhibit."

Claire is looking at me like I've grown another head.

"Now," I continue, as Owen climb up onto the deck and disappears around the back, "seeing as how you're not busy right now, you can come with us back to the Paddock."

Owen reappears, carrying a larger sized wrench. "It just so happens that I am busy," he says, and now I know he's trying to get a rise out of me. Normally, Owen Grady would have a thousand questions if someone informed him that there was a new exhibit – unless that someone was me.

"Just get in the car," I sigh, struggling to keep my voice down. Everything about the guy makes me want to punch something.

"There you go again," he says, setting the wrench down and walking over. He stops inches from me, and while I'd like to back away, I won't stand down from the challenge. "You've always got to be in control."

"You could just as well be describing yourself," I spit back, choosing to focus on the spot between his eyes rather than directly in them. I can feel my blood heating up and I'm sure Claire must think I'm on the edge of a temper tantrum.

"As Alpha," he says, lowering the pitch of his voice, "I am in control."

"Not out here, you're not," I return, trying not to blink. "We're not in the raptor paddock anymore."

"Well, _you're_ not," he replies, tone cutting and even. "As for me, I don't run from a challenge."

He steps closer, and I can smell the ghost of beer on his breath. I kick myself mentally for stepping back out of the danger zone. Just a small step back, but he's trained to notice little details like that, and the bastard just grins down at me.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think I just stepped between a couple of bull stegoceras," Claire interjects, disproval clear in her tone.

"I'm going to wait in the car," I say sourly, turning away from his taunting smirk. Right behind me, Claire slides into the driver's seat as I'm slamming the passenger door, admittedly harder than necessary.

"What was that about?" Claire asks, turning the key in the ignition.

I'm saved from answering by a worse fate, three quick raps on my window. I turn in time to see Owen rattle the passenger door, a half-joking gesture to relinquish the front seat. He gives it only a second before jumping into the back, shaking the whole car as he nonchalantly makes himself comfortable.

"Hurry up, I've got better places to be today," I grumble, though Claire's already putting the car in reverse.

"What, Liam finally asked you out to dinner?" Owen retorts. I immediately regret starting the conversation up again as he continues. "Someone should warn him you're more of a one-date-and-ditch-'em kinda gal. Be gentle on the boy, Dearing, he's a good man, and a hell of a lot softer than I am."

"Last time I checked," I say coolly, turning to the window, "what I do on my own time is no business of yours."

"What you do during work hours isn't my business either, anymore, but I still know you've been to a thousand meetings this week and not once have you stopped by the raptor paddock, or any of the others for that matter," he says, more seriously. "I'm surprised. I don't see how you could be happy working with the suits – no offense, lady, I'm sure you're tons of fun at budgeting meets. It just doesn't suit you, Kira, like _, at all."_

"I think I'll decide what suits me, actually," I respond, and an awkward silence fills the car for the remainder of the drive.


End file.
